


Dear Future Self

by Cipheral



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Developing Friendships, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gerard Keay Lives, Hospitalization, Leitner Books (The Magnus Archives), M/M, Michael Shelley Lives, Panic Attacks, Trans Gerard Keay, Trans Michael Shelley, i'll be updating the tags as the fic goes on, it's going to be a qpr between michael and gerry, so idk what tags to use for that, those tags arent common enough to be actual tags? the fuck?, why is the lonely a fucking character tag
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-05-16
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:01:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24010231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cipheral/pseuds/Cipheral
Summary: After an investigation gone wrong, Michael Shelley is assigned to work with Gerry Keay to track down Leitners. Right away, Michael gets caught up in a world he'd only barely scraped the surface of; a world of horrors that he'd never thought to be real opens before his eyes. Between his job, the haunts of his past, and his slowly budding friendship with his coworker, he asks himself one thing: Will he ever make it to the day he reads his letters to his future self?
Relationships: Gerard Keay & Michael, Gerard Keay/Michael Shelley
Comments: 8
Kudos: 58





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The tags will be regularly updated as each chapter comes out, so please check them with each update! The rating may change as well, and there may be warnings that will apply later on that don't as of the first chapter.

There were many things that Michael Shelley was. He did not think, however, that brave would be on that list. That was why, as he stared down a strange creature born from shadows, he questioned why he had ever signed up for a position at The Magnus Institute in the first place.

He had several batteries stored in his pocket, and the industrial strength torch in his hand shone directly on the thing. He kept the light trained on it, inching forward towards it carefully.

That was when the strange creature of the Dark lunged, and his memory blanked out.

When he next regained consciousness, beeping greeted his ears, and a bright light burned behind his eyelids. A good sign; that meant he had survived. A bit concerning, since he had no idea what happened, but that was a worry for a later hour.

He turned his head sideways and cracked an eye open carefully. Only after the sudden absence of voices did he notice that people had been speaking. Turning his head the other way he saw Gertrude sitting in a chair next to the bed, an unreadable expression on her face.

He opened his mouth, trying to croak out an apology for the mess he had gotten into, but she put her hand up before he could, stopping him before he could start.

“Don't apologize. I should have known better than to send you where I knew the Dark's creatures were lurking about,” she said, lowering her hand and glancing at the door.

Leaning against the door frame was a man that Michael had never seen around the Archives. He was tall, though still shorter than Michael, with rather poorly dyed hair, and dark bags under his eyes. The most peculiar thing about him, though, were faint tattoos, all in the shapes of eyes, set over every visible joint.

His eyes flicked back to Gertrude, who had shifted her own vision back to him, seemingly waiting for him to say something now.

“What...” he was cut off by a sharp cough that tore through him. His voice was hoarse, cracking where it wasn't choked. After a few moments the coughs subsided and he managed to wheeze out a faint, “What happened?”

It was the stranger who spoke this time. His voice was low, and Michael could only think to describe it otherwise as warm, with a soft tone despite the words he was saying. “You nearly got your head torn off by one of the Dark's creatures. Only reason you survived, I'd say, is because the sun burnt it away before it could finish you off,” he said, smirk firmly in place.

Gertrude sighed, shooting the man a withering glance before turning her attention back to Michael. “Someone called an ambulance when they saw you, and I was contacted. Gerard came with me as he needed to talk to me about a job that he was on,” she said, “You're lucky you lived. Why did you think that taking on one of the Dark's creatures alone was a good idea?”

Michael shrugged as best as he could. There was a sharp pain in his shoulder as he made the movement. He did his best to ignore it, but clearly something showed on his face as Gerard rolled his eyes and spoke up.

“Gertrude, he just woke up, let him get his head on straight,” he chided, arms crossed. “I'm going to go let one of the nurses know you're awake.”

With that, he pushed off the door frame and turned out the door, disappearing from view.

Gertrude didn't look too pleased at being told to let Michael come into himself a bit more, but to her credit she didn't press any further. Instead, she pulled her phone out, entering the code and busying herself with checking various apps. The silence made the relatively short time that they were alone in the hospital room together seem to stretch into eternity. It couldn't have been more than a couple of minutes from Gerard leaving to when he returned with a rather surprised looking nurse, but it felt like hours had passed.

“We weren't expecting you to be up for another day at least,” the nurse said, setting a tray on the overbed table next to the bed. She helped him sit up more, adjusting the bed until he gave the okay for comfort levels, and rolled the table over so the top was resting over his lap. “It's good to see that you're doing better, though! I'm going to do a quick check of your vitals, and ask some questions if that's alright? I'll try to stick to things that have single word answers.”

With a nod, Michael let her do her job, answering yes or no where applicable, and giving a pain level assessment when she asked.

“Do you know what happened to you? What attacked?” she asked, glancing up from her clipboard.

Michael grimaced. “Dog attack. I, I only remember it lunging, nothing else,” he said. It wasn't a complete lie. The thing sure looked vaguely enough like a dog for it to count.

“Are you sure? It must have been a pretty large dog for it to leave the injuries it did,” she said, noting something down. “Was it domesticated, or was it a wild dog?”

“Do you mean... like a wolf or something?”

The nurse hummed, nodding.

He shrugged, grimacing at the way his shoulder ached. He had to stop doing that. “Not sure. It... it was pretty dark out, so I, I, I'm not sure if it was a stray or if it was wild.”

She jotted another note down. “Well, we're going to take some extra precautions just in case. I doubt you'll need a rabies shot, but we're going to give you one anyways, just to be safe rather than sorry. You've been stitched up, and you could be released by tomorrow if things continue to look as good as they do now,” she said with a bright smile. “You were pretty lucky, all things considered.”

“Yeah, yeah, so I figured,” Michael laughed.

As the nurse left the room, Gertrude raised an eyebrow at him. “I didn't know you were quite so adept at lying to people,” she said.

“I'd, I'd say 'like it's hard', but I, I, I know you're trying to say something else here,” he replied, too tired for the mind games he was so used to from other members of the Institute.

With an entertained huff, Gertrude continued. “Do you lie at work?” she questioned, voice light, but a dark look in her eyes. He had a feeling that this would not be the last time that he saw that same darkness in her.

He shook his head. “Only, uh... O-only good at it to people I don't know well? Around the Institute I've, y'know, I've gotten to be on fairly good terms with most people, so I'm too nervous to lie to them,” he explained, “If I figure that I'll be seeing someone around often, i-it's harder to as well.”

Gertrude nodded once, looking away. She pursed her lips, her brow furrowing as she glanced at Gerard, who seemed to be just as confused as Michael felt. “Gerard,” she said.

Gerard let out a questioning hum in response, standing up a bit straighter.

“You and Michael are going to be working together after this. With one of my assistants working on your job, you’ll receive more funding, and I feel like his skills would be useful, considering what you do.” She gave no room for argument.

Michael and Gerard took a moment to just stare at the other, neither sure that they had processed what she’d said. Gerard looked away first, disbelief on his face as he waited for Gertrude to continue. When she didn't, he shook his head and sputtered out a, “Hang on:  _ what _ ?”

“The two of you are both dangers to yourselves, your jobs, and society at large in the wrong situation. You'll probably fare better with someone to balance out the ridiculous things you do,” Gertrude elaborated with a heavy sigh. “Michael, you're being reassigned once you get out of the hospital. You and Gerard will be getting the same information to follow from now on, and he'll train you on the field work that he does.”

“I thought that... what about... I was supposed to head out from here once he woke up?” Gerard stuttered out, glancing between Michael and Gertrude several times.

“And now you're going to stay in the area until Michael has healed and make sure whatever it was that tried to kill him won't be returning to finish the job.”

One thing that Gertrude Robinson was good at was leaving no room for argument when she was done with a conversation. As Gerard sputtered out the start of a few more protests, he seemed to deflate as she turned her attention away from him. It was a rather sad sight, Michael thought, as he saw the confused and hurt look in Gerard's eyes and the way he folded back into himself with a slight scowl.

“Even if you're released tomorrow, take another day or two. You need more than one day of rest before you start hunting down Leitners with Gerard,” she said, addressing Michael now. “At the start of next week, I want you both to come into the Archives early. We'll address the matter of... well, all of it, more in depth then.”

Michael nodded wordlessly. He really didn't know what else to do other than go along with what she was asking of him. She was his boss, and this was her call for his job. He supposed if this really didn't work out, he could just go to HR and ask about being reassigned again, but he... rather hoped that it didn't come to that, actually. He was wary about admitting it, but there was something rather intriguing about Gerard. He had such a harsh appearance, such deep frown lines already, and yet when he spoke it was with a gentleness and warmth that was completely unexpected.

Her piece said, Gertrude stood up, wished Michael a goodnight, and left the room. Gerard didn't seem to know what to do, still leaning against the wall and staring after her in confusion and suspicion.

“So you, uh, hunt down Leitners?” Michael asked. It was worth a shot to try and learn a bit more about his newest colleague.

Gerard shrugged. "Yeah, but it's not really on the Institute's records. I've got a pretty personal grudge against the bastard, and this lets me get that out. Since it’s also getting me more information about the Entities... Well, it's not like I can complain too much."

"Wait, so you don't work for the Institute?"

"Not on paper, no," he said, "That would be a liability for me. Not that I want to work on the records for them anyways. Elias is a creep, and I'd really rather avoid him as much as possible."

A short bout of silence stretched out between them. Michael worried that if he asked too much, pried too much, he would push Gerard away before they even began working together formally. Just as he settled on asking about how he and Gertrude met, Gerard spoke up, stopping him before he could begin.

"So why the hell were you going after one of the Dark's creatures solo, anyways? You couldn't have thought it would actually go well, right?" Gerard’s eyes drifted to the bandages at Michael's shoulder and on his arms.

Michael laughed at that. "I, I mean, I did have an industrial strength torch, as well as a good dozen spare batteries on me. I just... didn't actually think through what I would do once I found it," he explained., "Didn't actually think I'd, um, get that far."

Gerard shook his head. "And that's why I'm wary about Gertrude putting you up to this. Not only are you registered as an employee in the Archives, but you don't really have much field work experience, do you?"

"H-hang on, what does me being an Archives employee have to do with this?"

"D'you not know about the whole spooky 'you can't quit from the Archives' thing?"

That was enough to stun Michael. He really thought he knew the extent of the weirdness of the Institute. "What do you mean Archival employees can't quit?"

"You physically can't quit. You can't just fuck off to the middle of nowhere, can't hand in a formal resignation letter, none of it. Give it a shot when you get out of here. I promise you that it won't work."

Michael was about to tell him that he rather liked his job, actually, so why would he even try to quit, when Gerard's phone went off. He answered with an over dramatic eye-roll.

“I assume you want me to finish up and get my ass down to catch the cab?” he said, a teasing grin on his face as he held the phone a couple inches away from his ear. There was a muffled shout on the other end of the phone that caused Gerard to crack up, and oh, that was certainly a sight, now wasn't it?

His nose crinkled up as he laughed, crooked smile pulling at his cheeks and squishing the corners of his eyes. He looked positively radiant as he laughed at Gertrude's irritated shouting through the phone, and gave a confirmation that he was heading down before hanging up.

“Well, you heard her, I presume. Most people in the hall probably did, as well. See you Monday at the Institute?” Gerard said, tucking his phone back into his pocket as he pushed himself off the wall and towards the door.

“Uh, yeah! Yeah. See you Monday,” Michael stammered out, returning the nod that Gerard gave to him as he left.

* * *

  
  
  


The weekend passed in a blur. He was released from the hospital the next day, and given instructions on how to care for his stitches along with a prescription for painkillers and antibiotics. On his way home, he'd picked up the necessary materials and medication from the pharmacy, and spent most of the rest of the day sleeping after taking one of the painkillers.

By Monday, he'd regained enough of his senses and needed few enough painkillers that he could return to work. He wasn't exactly sure what he was going to do after Gertrude went over the details, however, as he wasn't quite well enough to go traipsing around the country looking for cursed books.

He gave Rosie a wave as he passed the front desk, and she smiled in return.

“It's nice to see you back, Michael! Hope you're feeling better.”

“It's nice to be back. I get restless when I’m stuck at home all the time,” he laughed, continuing on to the Archives. Rosie was fairly new to the Institute, even more than he was, and while she seemed about on edge as everyone else was about the Archives, she was welcoming. It was easier to get words out around her.

Michael knocked once on the door to Gertrude's office before taking the handle in his hand, and hesitated before opening it. Something felt off about this. He couldn't figure out why, but he didn't want to open any doors Gertrude directed him to. Slowly pulling his hand away from the handle, he waited, making no noise in the action.

When the door swung inwards and a very confused Gerard stared up at him, he relaxed, the moment having passed. Gerard's confusion melted away after a moment, a resigned expression taking its place as he turned and waved Michael in after him.

Michael followed, softly shutting the door behind him. Gertrude was sat at her desk, typing something out on her laptop, and didn't so much as glance at him as he took the seat Gerard offered him. It was only when Gerard hopped up to sit on her desk, leaning back to try and see what she was doing, that she closed the laptop fiercely. She glared up at him, and he shrugged, grinning smugly down at her.

“Now that you're both here, I presume we can start,” she said, setting the laptop aside and rifling through one of her desk drawers.

Gerard tilted his head up, leaning just a touch closer to her side of the desk as he continued to try to look at everything that she was going. Michael couldn't help but compare him to a black cat, between his seemingly endless curiosity and dark aesthetic. Gertrude snapped her desk drawer shut, shooting Gerard another glare, and set a folder on her desk, opening it to the first page.

“Michael, what you're doing is top secret work, do you understand me?” she said, a dark look in her eyes. When he nodded, she continued, “Gerard hunts down and investigates Leitners, as I mentioned back at the hospital. He's not on any official Institute contract, least of all an Archives contract, so the things that affect us will not affect him. You, however, may experience adverse side effects. If you do, write them down, and be sure to include when they happen, where they happen, and how long you've been away from the Archives.

“There are things out there far grander than us, and they are not positive beings. They are the culmination and personifications of all of humanity's deepest, most primal fears. It is… theorized that there are fourteen in total, the names of which you will learn rather quickly being put to this task. These Leitners belong to these entities, the Fears, in a sense. They are condensed energy from them, and are incredibly dangerous books. When you find them, you are not to read them, nor are you to try and test their abilities yourselves.”

“Dunno why you're addressing me there as well, Gertrude. You know that I know much better than to try and actually use a Leitner myself,” Gerard piped up, raising an eyebrow at her.

“I include you because I know that you're reckless and need reminders that it would do us both much better for you to stay broadly intact. My point is that this is a very dangerous job, and I cannot guarantee your safety while you're doing it.” Gertrude flipped through the papers in front of her, waving Gerard away with one hand. “Especially for you, Michael, due to your official contract with the Institute.”

“I... I'm sorry, I, I, I don't understand what you mean by that?” Michael said, trying to take in everything that he'd just learned.

“D'you remember what I told you as I was leaving?” Gerard asked.

Michael nodded after taking a moment to think about it. “You said something about the Archival employees being unable to quit? I, I don't know what that would have to do with me doing this rather than my usual office work, though.”

“If you are away from the Archives for too long, without Elias' approval, we're not sure what will happen. Presumably, you would just get rather ill and have to return to London -- back to the Archives,” Gertrude explained, “I'm not sure if this will still happen while technically doing work for the Archives with intent to return, but it certainly happens when trying to go off on unofficial permanent vacation.”

“I assume that I'll learn what Elias has to do with this later on?”

“Most likely, yes. Until then, just know that he cannot be trusted with this kind of information, and has ties to one, if not multiple, entities.”

Michael went silent, giving a simple nod in response. He looked down at his hands in his lap, where his fingers played with the hem of his sweater absently. It certainly was a lot of information to take in. He wanted to do well. He wanted Gertrude to be able to put her trust in him for jobs like this more often, so he intended to make good on his word.

“Alright,” he said finally, trying to keep his voice as even and steady as he could. “What is that we're going to be doing this time, then? Where are we headed?”

Gerard raised his eyebrows at the way Michael stared steadily at Gertrude before turning his own attention to her as well, ready and waiting for the next lead.

Apparently, they were headed to Spain, chasing a lead on a book that melted the flesh of those who finished reading it. Gerard seemed almost bored by the book's effect, rolling his eyes and muttering a “that's it?” when handed the papers on the various recorded run-ins with it. Michael, however, felt his stomach flip at the thought. It didn't sound very pleasant, not to witness nor experience.

“Desolation, then? Or is it Flesh?” Gerard asked, grimacing at a rather gruesome image in the files.

“Unsure. Be careful if you try to burn it to get rid of it -- that may backfire. I'd suggest just about any other way of destroying it,” Gertrude replied, sliding the files that Michael currently had no interest in reading back into the folder.

“Got it. No lighter fluid this time,” Gerard laughed, folding up the papers and tucking them into his jacket. Turning to Michael, he asked, “So, when do you think you'll be ready to head out?”

Michael startled, not expecting the attention to be turned onto him. “I, um, still have... well, I have to take antibiotics until the end of the week, and the pain is still fairly bad. It was a bit of a feat that I was even able to make it in today,” he chuckled, more due to his own nerves than because he found anything he was saying entertaining.

It was Gerard's turn to be startled, his eyebrows furrowing and lips pulling into a slight frown. “If you're still in pain, why did you come in? You don't have to push yourself if you're not well enough to actually do any work.”

“Well, w-we said that we would have this meeting Monday, which is today. I, I just... well, I suppose that had I called in, it would have been cancelled, but I didn't want you to have to bring yourself all the way here just to find out it was for no reason,” Michael stuttered out, trying to explain himself.

Gertrude sighed just as Gerard shook his head with a disbelieving laugh. “I'm around here basically daily until I get another lead, you know. I'd have been here anyways, and you could have just waited until you were well enough that you didn't need prescription grade painkillers just to move,” he said. “Gertrude, let him go home for the day. He seems half out of it, if that's the reasoning he jumped to.”

“That happens to be how he is, Gerard. Being ill or in pain wouldn't have changed his reasoning,” she grumbled. “But either way, Michael, please go home after this. It would do none of us well for you to push yourself too hard and postpone this trip further.”

“...Of course. I'll do that, then. Should I just call in when I'm feeling better?” he asked, standing slowly from his seat.

“Please do. You’ll be heading to Spain a couple days after you’re feeling better, so get your rest while you can.” Gertrude did her best to wave him off, tucking the folder back into her desk. “And Gerard?”

Gerard let out a questioning hum from where he sat on the edge of her desk, twiddling a nail file between his fingers.

“See Michael out, please. I have work to do, and it is not work that I'd like company for.”

“Got it,” he said, hopping off the desk easily, his sturdy boots thudding solidly as he landed. “Let's go.”

He opened the door for Michael once more, waving him out ahead of him, and the two left Gertrude alone in her office.

Gerard didn't speak more as he walked Michael to the front. It was only once they were outside of the Institute, standing on the front steps, that he asked, “How are you planning to get home?”

“Oh, I, um, was just going to take the tube. Cabs are rather pricey for someone on the salary of an Archival assistant,” Michael said, pausing on his way down the stairs.

“You sure you're in good enough condition for that? No offence, but it looks like the painkillers are starting to wear off.”

Michael shuffled uncomfortably at that. It wasn't like Gerard was wrong, not by a long shot. They'd started to wear off not too long ago, and his shoulder ached whenever he moved that arm. His chest wasn't doing much better, as there wasn't really any way they could set his cracked ribs. The exhaustion must have been showing on his face, because Gerard walked forward, hand raised as if to pat his shoulder, before lowering it once more as he thought better of it.

“I'll pay for the cab. It's really no problem, so don't try and argue,” he said, pulling his phone out and dialing a number off by heart.

Fifteen minutes later, Gerard was hopping in the back seat of the cab alongside Michael, who told the driver the address to go to.

When Michael questioned Gerard about how he planned to get back to the Institute, he'd simply shrugged and said he hadn’t needed to be around anymore that day. He'd also said something rather cryptic about tormenting local Fear Avatars, but Michael pointedly ignored that one.

When the cab arrived at Michael's flat, Gerard hopped out of the cab alongside him, handing the cab driver the fare before waving him off.

“Thank you, Gerard,” Michael said. “I'll, I'll, admit, I should probably be taking another painkiller very soon, even if not the prescription grade ones that I've got. Um, having multiple cracked ribs is not very pleasant.” He found that giving Gerard a genuine smile was much easier than he expected.

Gerard shrugged, his own lopsided grin pulling at his lips.“I've been there enough times that I'd know all too well,” he said. “And, uh, call me Gerry. It's what I've wanted friends to call me, and if we're going to be coworkers from now on, then I'd consider you a friend in this line of work.”

“Well then, Gerry, I, I'll be seeing you. Ms. Robinson will, uh, probably? Phone you when I'm back on my feet properly. I hope she will, at least. It, it would be easier than you having to go in daily, at least.”

“Yeah, sure thing. I'll remind her to do that tomorrow, then. Be seeing you!”

As Michael entered his flat and shut the door with a soft creak behind him, he had to steady himself. Gerry had been right; the cab had definitely been a better idea than the tube. He stumbled his way to the kitchen, flicking the light on and getting himself a glass of water before taking a couple of over the counter painkillers. No need to use the narcotic level medication more than once a day, he figured.

He changed back into his pyjamas from the previous night, tucking himself into bed. The last thing that crossed his mind as he did his best to doze off was that, when he got up to order dinner, he should really fill out another page in his journal.

* * *

  
  
  


April 18 th 2009,

I'm still rather sore; my stitches itch, and my chest aches from the attack. I did make it into the Institute for the meeting I had with Ms. Robinson and Gerard, however. It was... enlightening to say the least. Apparently, this is much more dangerous than what I was doing before, and requires me to travel outside of the country. I'm rather lucky that I've recently renewed my passport.

Gerard – Gerry, as he asked me to call him when he left earlier – was kind enough to pay for cab fare so I didn't have to take the tube as my painkillers began to wear off. He seems to be a very complicated person, and so very interesting! Future me, I hope that we get a chance to get to know him better. He's different on his own than when around Gertrude, and so very cryptic in his way of speaking.

I hope that you're doing better than I am now, future me. Ms. Robinson still doesn't seem to think very highly of me, but perhaps you've proven yourself more useful to her... However, there was something today that makes me wary of opening any doors that she tells me to that she isn't also going through. Keep that wariness in mind, since I believe that after what I learned today, it will keep you safe.

Will write to you again soon,

Michael Shelley.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so before this chapter gets me some weird hate or something I am clearing up a few things:
> 
> 1\. The timeline that I'm mostly running off of is [here](https://hhawkeyepierce.tumblr.com/post/618137891495985152/gertrudes-assistants-and-non-assistants) if anyone is concerned about anything.  
> 2\. In this fic Gerry is 29 with his birthday being in 1980, and Michael being 5 years older at 34.  
> 3\. This was started before 167 was released. Which I think is obvious by the publish date, but I still would like to clear it up for those who don't look at that.  
> 4\. Don't bully my beta for editing this, god they do not deserve that.
> 
> Finally: content warnings for this chapter include panic attack descriptions! Also the Lonely, which for some reason is a character tag and not a general tag?

“Okay, are you _absolutely certain_ that you got the time for the flight right?” Michael asked, panic rising like bile in his throat.

“ _ Yes _ , Michael. I have triple checked it. We're in the right place, and we're an hour early. We've gotten through security, and just need to find the gate,” Gerry sighed.

The early morning chill seeped through the walls of Heathrow airport, making the temperature just uncomfortable enough that Michael regretted not wearing a thicker sweater. Gerry moved with confidence through the sparse, winding halls of Heathrow, glancing between their tickets and the gates that they passed.

The airport wasn't what Michael had expected. He'd always known airports as bustling, busy places, with crowds waiting for their friends and families to return or leave. The people napping on the hard plastic seats, or waiting impatiently in small groups for the kiosks and snack bars to open, did not live up to the image that he had built in his mind.

“Ah, here it is,” Gerry said eventually, slowing to a stop in front of what was apparently their gate. “We've still got a bit of time before we're called on. Damn shame that the kiosks won't open for another twenty minutes; we could've wasted time browsing the overpriced, shitty trinkets.”

The ever-increasing panic that had been slowly overcoming Michael receded slightly. “How much longer is there until boarding time?”

“Fifteen minutes. We can just take a seat until then.”

The time crept by, and Michael's nerves were turning his stomach by the time the loudspeaker announced that their flight was to begin boarding. Michael shot to his feet, taking his ticket from Gerry as he got up as well.

“They usually board back rows to the front, so we're going to be in the first group, since we're pretty far back,” he explained.

The ease with which Gerry handled the boarding was something that further deepened Michael's interest in him. He clearly was far from new to this, even if Michael's first-time-flyer anxiety clouded his own mind a bit, and was so good at keeping Michael grounded during his rushes of panic.

“How do you do it?” Michael asked once they were safely buckled into their seats. “I, I mean, I'm pretty sure that I wouldn't even be this calm after fifty flights. How are you – how are you able to be so calm? While also being able to... while also keeping  _ me _ calm.”

Gerry looked surprised, then took a moment to think about it. “I guess I’m just used to being someone who keeps others calm. I'm used to having to keep my head on straight when others are panicking, so it's actually not all that hard for me to do with you.”

“Part of the job description or something then?”

“No, well, maybe. I'd probably be better off with a bit more caution than I've got while doing this... guess that's why Gertrude decided to assign you to work with me. Something, something, balance.”

Michael nodded and turned to look out of the window. In the early morning sun, people in bright safety vests hurried about, passing luggage to one another or chatting and pointing to various things around the tarmac. Eventually, the luggage had all been loaded onto the plane, and the employees cleared off.

A ding from above was followed by a crackly voice coming through the overhead speakers. Michael could barely understand what was being said through the terribly loud and broken audio, but judging from the stewardess that was showing one of the safety belts and how to use it properly, he figured that it was safety procedures. He glanced over at Gerry who was staring up at the speaker above them with a concerned expression.

“Is everything alright?” he muttered, leaning in.

Gerry hummed in response, taking a moment to glance out of the window before going back to glaring at the speaker. “Dunno, but I've got a more important safety message than whatever the stewardess is talking about. I can recite that spiel from memory at this point for later.”

“And, um, what? What would that, uh, be?” Michael felt his chest tighten a bit. It was the first time he'd seen Gerry look nervous, and he figured that there had to be a pretty damn good reason for it.

“Anchors. Do you know what those are?”

“I, I mean, of course I do? Unless you're talking about something other than the anchors on ships, of course.”

Gerry let out a soft huff of laughter. “Yeah, I'm talking about something else. An anchor... well, it has that name for a reason. It's something that you can use to ground yourself, something you can think of and remind yourself that there's something to come back to. You've gotta have a very strong connection to whatever it is, or else it won't work.

“It's a connection to the world outside of the entities. It can be a pet, a family member, a friend, anything that you would have a strong connection to. Even a particularly well-loved item could work. It's something that you can use your connection to to bring you  _ back _ from any of the domains of the Fears.”

“And... are you asking if I have one?”

“Well, do you? Do you have something that can help you bring yourself back from whatever domain you may end up in?”

Michael hesitated. He wasn't particularly close with his family, the connection he had to Gertrude was one sided, and he had no pets to speak of. “I... I suppose I don't. Perhaps that's why I'm so nervous?”

“No, I think that you're nervous because you've got anxiety,” Gerry said. “We need to find you an anchor. Is there anything you can think of right now that you could theoretically care enough about to be able to haul yourself back into reality for?”

Michael shook his head. “I don't actually have many connections, and – oh! Um, would a, a plant work? I've got an ivy back at my flat that needs me to take care of it, and I'd be very, very upset if it died on me. I made sure to refresh it's automatic watering... thing? The glass bulb plant watering things? I've got one for it, and I refilled it before I left this morning.”

Gerry grinned. “That'll work! Now, if we end up in one of the domains for any of the Fears, you need to think very, very hard about that ivy. Fight back the panic, the desire to just submit to the fear you'll feel, and think about your ivy, and how you've gotta make it back to take care of it. Does that make sense?” he asked.

“I think so, yes. I, I really,  _ really _ , hope that it doesn't come to that, though?”

“Yeah, well, it's unfortunately an occupational hazard. And I only warn,” he said, “because that isn't the sound that those speakers are supposed to make.”

Well, that certainly put Michael on edge. As the plane made its way down the runway, Michael's hands grasped at the armrests that were pulled down on either side of his seat. He did his best to control his breathing as the plane picked up speed and he felt himself recline with the rest of the plane. As they pulled higher into the sky, faster and faster, he closed his eyes tight, the view out the window giving him a slight feeling of vertigo. On his left, he felt a rough hand hesitantly cover his own, and flipped his palm up to grab onto it for dear life.

The slight chuckle Gerry let out when Michael's vice grip latched onto his hand reminded him that there were other places he could look than out the window. Turning his head and opening his eyes, he saw that Gerry didn't look quite as at ease as he had on the ground.

When he raised an eyebrow questioningly, Gerry shrugged. “I just really, really, don't like the Vast. Wouldn't say I'm more afraid of it than the others, but it sure as hell isn't my favourite of the entities,” he said, offering no further explanation.

As the flight went on, things eased up slightly between the two. Michael eventually felt like he could withdraw his hand without chewing his nails into oblivion, and did so, resting his palms in his lap. He picked slightly at the blanket he'd laid over his lap before take off, catching the pilling under his nail and flicking them at the back of the seat in front of him. Once in a while, he and Gerry would talk about what was waiting for them in Barcelona, but the majority of the relatively short flight was spent in silence. Neither were particularly interested in discussing their job in much detail around others, and a flight full of people who were probably all completely ignorant to the things around them was not the best place to avoid prying ears.

Michael's eyes shut once more as they began their descent, Gerry reaching out and offering a grounding hand once more. He took it without thinking, grip tight as the plane shook as it hit the ground. It wasn't until they'd fully stopped that Michael risked opening his eyes and releasing his iron tight grip on Gerry's hand.

“So, first flight thoughts?” Gerry asked as they made their way off the plane to baggage claim.

“Well, I, I absolutely don't enjoy it, actually!” Michael laughed. His nerves still hadn't settled even though he was on solid ground once more.

“Yeah, I can't say it's exactly my favourite way of travelling. I prefer bus, car, train, anything that isn't a boat or plane, really.”

They continued on as they waited for their bags to come through the carousel, lightly debating which modes of transportation were best and which were worst. It was only when they got into the cab to go to their hotel did they fall silent. It wasn't uncomfortable, Michael noticed, but rather calm. They'd run out of things to say for the time being, and it wasn't... It wasn't hard to be quiet around Gerry. He often felt the need to fill silences with his own anxious rambling, but he didn't feel that now. It was a strange feeling, but he certainly wasn't going to complain.

Once in their hotel room, Gerry dropped the duffle bags he'd been carrying onto one of the beds and immediately began rifling through one. Michael watched on for a moment before setting his own bags onto the other bed and doing the same.

While Michael unpacked his things, Gerry pulled out a few files, and – much to Michael's shock – three containers of lighter fluid. He opened his mouth a few times, wanting to question how he had even gotten those past security, but was given a conspiratorial wink and over-dramatic shushing motion when Gerry saw him.

It was interesting, watching Gerry go about unpacking and sorting all of the files related to the case, even if the lighter fluid was more than a little concerning. He spread most of them out over the floor, sitting among a circle of papers and clippings with his back to the foot of his bed. After reading over the papers carefully, he placed each back down in a different spot. As he finished the last of the papers – Michael having finished his own unpacking a while ago, now sitting on his own bed watching carefully – he started the process over again.

“What is it that you're doing, anyways?” Michael asked, his curiosity finally getting the better of him.

Gerry practically jumped out of his skin. “Hm? Oh! Uh, I'm trying to put these statements and... sightings, I guess? Into a coherent timeline. It's not really  _ needed _ , since we already know where it was last reported being, but it helps me figure out what may work against it,” he explained through startled laughter. “God, I'd managed to forget that you were here. How are you so quiet?”

Michael shrugged. “You seemed focused, and I, I didn't want to break your concentration. If I’m interrupting you I can, um, let you get back to... work?” he said. “I think that I may go down and, uh, find a cafe or something to get a bite to eat. If, if you want to come with me you're welcome to! I don't want to pull you away from this for too long, though, if you'd rather... not.”

Gerry blinked up at him for a few moments, taking a few moments to process what he'd just been asked. He glanced back down at the papers surrounding him for just a second before standing with a huff. “I think that that sounds great, actually,” he said, lopsided grin on his face once more. “'S not like we've really had much of a chance to eat today.”

“Oh, um, great! I'll, I'll get my coat and we can head out then!”

He picked his coat up and ushered Gerry out of the room, shutting the door behind them. There was a slight chill in the air as the pair made their way down the street, the crowds not even sparing them a second glance. Eventually they took a seat at a little cafe; Michael finally found himself able to truly relax for the first time since he'd gotten out of the hospital.

The time passed with ease, and before either knew, the sun was setting as they made their way back to the hotel for the night. The room was bathed in a warm orange glow when they returned. Michael took a seat on his bed, tugging out one of the books he'd brought along, while Gerry returned to his work.

  
  


They fell into an easy routine after a few days; in the morning, Michael's alarm would go off, waking them both up with just enough time to get breakfast before the buffet closed. After they'd eaten, they would return to their room where Gerry would go over the papers while Michael read his novel. Once Gerry decided on a place to check out, the two would head out, either catching a bus or taking the metro to get as near their destination as they could get before walking the rest of the way.

Near the end of the first week, Gerry had a breakthrough.

Michael was reading when Gerry suddenly shot to his feet, hurrying to the phone, completely unaware of the minor heart attack he'd just given his roommate. The conversation he had on the phone was quiet and brief, and when he hung up, there was a self-satisfied smirk on his face.

“Got a good lead?” Michael asked, setting his book down on the side table.

Gerry nodded. “We've got an hour to follow it up, so let's hurry.”

It took nearly the full hour to arrive at the place Gerry had called, cutting it far too close for Michael's comfort. As he stared up at the creaking wooden sign, writing long since faded and scratched out, a deep sense of foreboding made its home in his chest. Gerry didn't hesitate to pull the door open once he'd confirmed the address was correct, gesturing for Michael to go ahead of him.

The interior of the... shop, Michael presumed, didn't do anything to ease the trepidation he felt. There was something very, very wrong with this place.

“Hello? Is there anyone here? I called earlier, and was told to be here within the hour in order to talk about the book I'm looking for,” Gerry called out, sticking close to Michael as they slowly made their way in deeper.

An eerie silence greeted the pair in response; the creaking of the floorboards as they slowly crept forwards was the only noise in the shop. As they got further in, Gerry pulled out a small torch and flicked it on, the darkness of the shadows seeming much more intense than at the front.

Gerry turned and nodded once at him before breaking off down one of the aisles of shelves covered in old, dusty books. Michael desperately wanted to protest the split, but kept silent, not wanting to risk drawing attention to himself as he snuck away in the opposite direction.

He pulled out his own torch as he turned down the aisle, flicking the switch and watching the dim yellow light catch the swirling dust particles in its glow. He scanned over the shelves, looking for anything that may resemble the book that they'd been trying to find for the last week. By the time he reached the end of the aisle, he'd found nothing. He very much didn't want to continue looking separately, but found that when he turned back around, he couldn't see the end of the aisle he'd come down.

Panic rising in his throat, Michael started to make his way back down the aisle, moving much faster than he had previously. There was no way that he'd gone that far from the centre hall in the amount of time it'd taken him to reach the far wall. There was no way that this shop was as big as it seemed to be now as he quietly raced back, trying to find anyone else in the dusty corridors of books.

After several minutes of desperate searching and the aisle of books never getting any shorter in either direction, Michael slowed to a stop, panting. His breath hitched in his chest with the panicked thought of never being able to leave, of being stuck among these dusty, pointless books alone for the rest of his life. Stumbling, his back hit one of the shelves. A book toppled into his hands as he sank down to the floor, shaking.

Clutching the book to his chest, he curled up, forehead pressed against his knees. His shoulders wracked with sobs as he felt despair start to sink in. He was needed, wasn't he? He couldn't just waste away when Gerry still hadn't –  _ Gerry _ . That was right. Gerry had told him something on the plane that was meant to ground him, hadn't he?

Michael took several deep breaths as he tried to stop his sobs and focus on remembering what it was that Gerry had told him. Anchors, was that it? What was it that he had chosen as his anchor again?

What felt like hours ticked by as Michael tried to remember what was outside of the soul-crushing solitude he was experiencing. Eventually, something clicked. Emily, his ivy. She still needed him to water her, and trim any dead leaves. He couldn't leave her, she would die without him. He trusted his neighbour immensely with her, but still, he was the one who knew exactly what level the blinds should be set at for her best sunbathing hours.

Slowly, he felt the edge of his panic dull, and the pressing loneliness ease away. He still wasn't quite sure he was ready to stand up and try to find other people, but it was progress.

Michael wasn't sure how long he sat there, still clutching the fallen book to his chest, trying to catch his breath. He couldn't even find it in him to be scared when he heard rushed footsteps approach him. He did, however, startle when a hand clasped onto his shoulder and made him look up.

There were very few times Michael had cried from relief in his life, and seeing Gerry's concerned and relieved face added one more incident to that list. Gerry pulled him into a tight hug, just holding onto him for a few minutes, one hand on the back of his head and the other resting on his back.

Michael pressed his face into the soft leather of Gerry's jacket, quiet sobs hitching his breath once more. The two sat there for quite a while, neither wanting to risk getting caught in... whatever that had been again. Eventually, Michael felt steady enough to pull back, leaning against the shelves once more.

“What... what was that?” he croaked out.

“I believe that we just had a run in with the Lonely, unfortunately. It's the fear of isolation, abandonment, and disconnection,” Gerry explained softly, hand resting on Michael's shoulder still. “Which probably means this shop is, maybe was, owned by the Lukas family. We should probably leave. If the book  _ is _ in here, it's as good as destroyed. I'd really have liked to get rid of it properly, but I won't complain if it's stuck in this place.”

It was then that Michael remembered that he was still holding onto the book that he'd knocked off the shelf earlier. He looked down, flipping the book over to look at the spine, and froze.

“Um, this, uh. This book?” he said, holding it up meekly.

Gerry stared at the book for a long moment, an unreadable expression on his face, before breaking into a grin. “How the hell did you find it? This place is packed, and you were caught up in the Lonely,” he asked, taking it and flipping it over a few times to confirm that it was in fact the book they were searching for. Seemingly content with the identity of the book, he tucked it into his coat and stood up, offering Michael a hand up.

“I, I bumped a shelf? And it just, it just kind of fell?” Michael took the offer up, standing on shaky legs. He stumbled a bit as Gerry started to lead him back to the front of the shop, but managed to keep his footing. “I'm not sure how I found it, honestly. It, it just kind of happened. This isn't the first time I've had luck like this, though.”

“The more I learn about you, the more I realize why Gertrude decided to match us up as coworkers,” Gerry laughed as they pushed open the door, emerging back into the late afternoon sun that bathed Barcelona.

  
  


The way that Gerry had decided to dispose of the book was by tying it to a brick and dumping it in the sea. Michael wasn't exactly sure what to think of the rather... simple disposal method, but figured that Gerry knew better on how to get rid of these than he did.

A few days later, the pair were back at the airport, catching yet another early morning flight. Michael was absolutely certain he would never get used to flying, and the hatred he had for the plane landing was only overshadowed by his relief at being back on the ground.

The same day they landed, they headed back to the Institute to report back to Gertrude.

“How did you two find Barcelona?” she asked as Gerry pushed open her office door. There was an amused smirk playing at the corners of her lips as she flipped through what Michael could only assume was a statement.

“Well, there's a bookshop that almost dragged us into the Lonely, so that's a fun little update as to what the Lukas' have been up to the last while,” Gerard explained, plopping down in one of the chairs across the desk from Gertrude. “Looked abandoned when we went in, but I got an answer on the phone when I called the number.”

Gertrude hummed in acknowledgement. “And the book?”

“Somewhere at the bottom of the Mediterranean Sea.”

She finally glanced up at that, one eyebrow raised questioningly.

“What? It was related to the Desolation! Water beats fire, doesn't it?” Gerard asked, shrugging.

“Wait, did you not actually know what you were doing when you dumped it?” Michael asked, taking a seat beside him. “I wanted to ask, but I figured you had solid knowledge as to what you were doing with it.”

“I mean, I did? Sort of. No one can use it down there at least!”

Gertrude sighed, setting the statement down in front of her. “How did you manage to track it to the bookshop that is supposedly owned by the Lukas family?”

Michael looked at Gerard, who simply shrugged once more and said, “I have my ways.”

“I will look into the shop further. Just drop the information off when you get a chance. Sooner rather than later if you can, Gerard,” she said, not bothering to press Gerard further on his tracking abilities. “And Michael?”

“Ah! Yes?” Michael started, not expecting to be called on.

“Until there is another lead to follow, you will return to your previous work around the Archives. Did you experience any adverse effects of prolonged distance from the Institute while in Barcelona?”

He shook his head. “I didn't, no. Not that I know of at least. I did feel pretty bad for a day or so after we found the book, but I don't think that was any- I don't think it had anything to do with being away from the Institute.”

“Good. In that case, you will continue to monitor potential side effects next time you have to travel. If you're gone longer than a week, take note of how much longer it takes for anything to set in, if at all.” Gertrude went back to scanning over the papers in front of her, a clear sign that she was finished with the two of them.

Gerry pushed himself out of his seat, nodding towards the door as he caught Michael's eye. Back on the front steps of the Institute, they sat, waiting for a cab.

“You know, considering that that was your first full run in with the Lonely, I'd say you handled it pretty well. Most people have a real hard time remembering their anchors the first time,” Gerry said, picking at a loose pebble on the steps.

Michael let out a laugh hearing that. “I almost didn't remember it. I started panicking about being needed, then remembered that I  _ was _ needed, by you, to help finish the job. From there I was able to remember what you said about anchors, and thought about Emily, my ivy back at my flat,” he said. “She needs me. I'm the only one who knows about the best placement for the blinds for the sunbathing she needs. I know exactly how much water she needs, and I'm the one who has to trim off any dead or rotten leaves.”

When he glanced over at Gerry, he noticed that he was giving him a strange look.

“Did I say something weird?” he asked, tilting his head quizzically.

Gerry shook his head. “I just... you named your ivy Emily?”

“Well, yes. I've, I've had her since she was a sprout, you know. She needed a lot of work to get to what she's like now. It was a lot of effort to get her grown... It was a lot of time... Oh, this isn't working,” Michael sighed. “I, I, I had to put a lot of work into keeping her healthy, so she could grow as much as she has.”

“Well, I bet she's lovely. Do you think I could see her some day?” Gerry asked.

“Of course! She does love company, you know. Music too.”

By the time the cab arrived, Michael was pretty sure that he'd talked more about Emily than he'd ever gotten the chance to before, Gerry hanging onto every word. Once again, Gerry got out of the cab when Michael did, paid the driver, and bid Michael farewell before heading off to who knows where.

As Michael double checked Emily's planter, luggage sitting around his living room half forgotten, he couldn't help but think about everything he'd learned over the last week.

The more time he spent with Gerry, the more he learned about him, the more questions he had. There was seemingly no end to the depth of the person that was Gerry Keay. He so desperately wanted to know more about him.

It was only as Michael settled down at his desk to write in his journal for the first time since he'd left for Barcelona that he was able to process all that had happened.

  
  


May 7 th , 2009

Well, I was a bit of a fool for not bringing this with me to Barcelona. The trip was much more action-packed than I expected, and I could have gotten much use out of writing these letters while there.

I've had another run in with one of the entities while there. The Lonely this time; you probably remember it well. It was particularly unpleasant, and... it was terrifying. Its name is quite fitting. I don't believe that I've ever felt so completely shut off from other people in my life. I'm very lucky that Gerry spoke with me on the plane there about anchors, or else I'm not sure what would have become of me.

You probably will have used the anchor(s) that we have many more times by the time that you get a chance to go back over these letters, this journal, but still. I think that it would be a wise idea for me to write down what my anchor is currently, if only so you can think of how that may have changed in the time since I've written this. Emily, my lovely ivy who I hope is still doing well when you read this, is my anchor. She needs me, so I'll keep her in my mind.

I do have to wonder, though, what your anchors are as you read this. Because I think I wouldn't mind if Gerry became an anchor for us. The more I learn about him, the more curious I get.

He's so kind and caring, a very reassuring presence. After grounding myself from the Lonely, he managed to find me, and he just... held me. Was simply there, no questions asked, nothing expected back. As if he knew that that's what I needed. At the same time, he's very cryptic and mysterious, always hiding something or other. I do hope that you find out what it is, not to intrude on his privacy, but rather because it would mean he truly trusts you, I think.

I know that I trust him, even if he doesn't seem to actually know what it is he's doing sometimes. He's confident in his actions, and he backs them with his own logic, and it's quite admirable, I find. He had no idea what he was doing when he tied that book to the brick and tossed it off the pier, but it sure seemed like he did!

Ms. Robinson expects me to continue to work my archival assistant job in between book hunts, which is reassuring at least. My aid is still needed around the office, and I think that the experience that I gain on these trips will be very, very useful for helping figure out which statements are of use or not.

...I cannot help but wonder, though, why it is she sent me to work with Gerry in the first place. Gerry believes it's because of my luck, and my natural caution, but I don't think that it's quite that simple. Ms. Robinson has never been someone to work off such trivial things, and my reassignment is not going to be a sudden change of heart. Perhaps I'll ask Gerry about... the incident from when you and I were younger. Maybe he will be able to explain what it is we saw back then. I don't know how soon I will get to that, however. I don't know if I even want to, or if it is just an idea that I thought sounded good on paper.

Until then, however, I will keep at my work as I always do. It's better to be useful than to be caught up in one's own thoughts, as mother used to say.

Will be back with more information again soon,

Michael Shelley

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you liked this, feel free to hmu @mart1nblackwood on tumblr! Thanks to my wonderful beta @jonathans1ms on tumblr for editing this and making it coherent to read! 
> 
> The update schedule is gonna be pretty vague and open, but there won't be more than 2 weeks at a time without updates (hopefully! Hopefully) so however you get notifications for that, feel free to do it!

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked this feel free to send me an ask @mart1nblackwood on tumblr, or @k4nkuro on tumblr where I may post art that goes along with this fic! Thanks for reading! Kudos and comments are appreciated! Also, check out my WONDERFUL beta's blog @jonathans1ms on tumblr, without whom this fic would not be readable!!


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